


That Which Burns Twice as Bright

by LePetitRosebud



Category: Naruto
Genre: Attempted Kidnapping, Gen, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, POV Outsider, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-08 12:23:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12864459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LePetitRosebud/pseuds/LePetitRosebud
Summary: Hatake Kakashi is the luckiest man in the world, even when he's not.





	That Which Burns Twice as Bright

* * *

   
  
Your first thought is, _what an unlucky man_.  
  
There’s no doubt that it’s him. The shock of silver hair, the scar, and when you force that eyelid up, the blood red gaze which stares back.  
  
Sharingan no Kakashi. Even someone as grizzled as you knows that stumbling upon an fallen shinobi of this calibre is rare.  
  
He’s huffing like a diseased pup, his glazed eyes tracking your movements. It doesn’t matter. Any fight he had has clearly been squeezed out of him, and a quick dose of sedative seals the deal. You’ve seen fighting men taken out by children, and fallen or no, all shinobi are dangerous. He still jerks a little when his fingers are broken, but eventually those eyes fall shut.  
  
He feels like a sack of rice as you fight your way out the thorn bushes he'd lain in. It’s annoying work but live bounties pay far more than just the heads. Given the careful way he’d hidden himself, he’s also probably sent word to his village. Konoha stands at least four days travel from here, and they say that shinobi can cover twice the distance that a normal man can. Fortunately for you, not all ninja secrets stay confined to their villages. If you run well, you can add half a day to that count. Two and a half days then, to deposit the biggest bounty you’ve ever seen.  
  
If luck is truly another part of a ninja’s skill, it would seem that Sharingan no Kakashi has run out. All the better for you. You concentrate, forcing the _thing_ in your veins to rush to your feet as you leave the thicket. It makes you giddy, the sight of that scarred face bouncing listlessly against your thigh as you flee, smiling.  
  
   
  
+  
  
   
  
The journey, however, is far from easy.  
  
Constant running with one eye over your shoulder, your hand clenching around your blades at bird calls as you leap from one tree to the next. Everything is soaked, sweaty skin goose-pimpling in the wind as you hoist your burden higher. Not for the first time, you wish you could have just stripped him clean.  It would have been a far lighter load, but he probably wouldn’t have survived the cold. You sigh as his flak jacket chafes at the tender skin of your neck again. The running isn't kind to your legs either, and the film of power underneath your feet has grown weaker.  
  
The trees cast long purpling shadows, bruising the canopy ahead with their blackness. You glance behind once again. The river is still four hours out, but it wouldn’t take much time to lighten your load. Fifteen minutes at the most. Luck, after all, can be earned as well as found.  
  
Decision made, your foot snags on the knot of the tree branch, holding your weight as you pivot sharply on your heel to slow down. The skin abrasions will burn later, but it’s the quickest way to stop. You settle the unconscious man against the trunk and divest him of his flak jacket, before working on his pouch and holster. The steel wires disappear into your own pouch, the weapons and a tattered paperback are tossed aside. Next to go are his sandals and the metallic hand protectors. But when your hand goes to the hitai-ate last, you find yourself hesitating.  
  
Sharingan no Kakashi lies in front of you, helpless as a wounded bird. His one eye is closed, trusting, as if in sleep. Your hand is so close to his mask.  
  
It’s torn, a pale strip of skin bisecting the deep blue on the right side. What would it feel like to hook a finger in that line of cloth, to just… yank it down? The thought has your head swimming like a man drunk on the finest wine. Of its own volition, your forefinger burrows down, stealing into the dark fabric like a thief. You pull.  
  
In the distance, a flock of disturbed crows takes to the wind, their angry cawing filling the evening air.  
  
   
  
+  
  
   
  
He’s barely a man.  
  
Even the angry scar bisecting half his face does nothing to hide that. With a bit of paint on his mouth, he might be one of the boys you buy to warm your bed. Gossip has it that he'd killed one of the minor lords of Earth country just last winter. You stare at the twine that binds his broken fingers. He had killed the man in his own bed, they said. With a hand stuck right through lord's chest. You could stick your cock in his mouth. Right now, if you wanted to.  
  
The fabric of your trousers bunches against your clenching fingers. Is this what it feels like? To tame the Copy Ninja himself?  
  
You never get to finish that thought, because between one instant and the next, the world is on fire.  
  
   
  
+  
  
   
  
There is pain, a thousand explosions of it in your hip as you careen sideways into a branch. The wood splinters with the force of the blow, cracking as the branch underneath begins to break. Your legs save you, funneling that precious _thing_ in your veins toward your feet. Everything is burning. Even the man standing between you and your prize.  
  
He stands absolutely still in the eye of the conflagration, burning blue like the center of a candle flame.  
  
You curse as you try to stand. Were you followed after all? You dismiss the thought, no shinobi could cover two days distance in such a short time. You would have heard about the bounty. Besides, the man wears nothing that distinguishes him as a ninja, standing almost naked save for the charred clothing wrapped around his legs. Someone like you then, not a shinobi but not a petty bandit either.

You need to regroup.

Movement is rough; one ankle doesn’t move correctly but the border isn't that far from the river. All you have to do is lure the intruder away. If Sharingan no Kakashi burns, there will be no money. Putting your weight on your good leg, you shuffle towards the man. You make eye contact, trying your hardest not to look at the kunai sitting in the shadow of the broken branch.  
  
"Please," you croak, shifting. Falling slightly lopsidedly so that you land closer. "We could share."  
  
The  man raises his head, looking from Sharingan no Kakashi to you and then back again. Those hairy brows draw together in puzzlement, like a thick question mark on a blank sheet of paper. He bears no colours of Konoha that you can see - with eyes only for the copy ninja. Definitely a bounty seeker like yourself, then. At this point you’ll do anything. Even half the bounty on Sharingan no Kakashi is enough to tempt, and you offer wildly, intent on reaching the blade. The silence registers only once you've picked up the knife, and you realize you've miscalculated.  
  
The interloper has moved, but not towards you.  
  
He kneels near the still form lying against the tree trunk, reaching out until he touches a bare wrist. You watch him as he gathers your prize, cradling the copy ninja to himself like a wolf-mother would her cubs. His gaze travels from his charge’s discoloured fingers to you.  
  
You rush him then, wildly swinging the kunai at his unprotected side. A thick hand slaps against your wrist; catching it in mid air and snapping it clean. It hurts more to lose the blade, watching it bounce off the branch edge as it spirals down to  the forest floor.

The world moves in slow motion as he pulls you in, and then swings out as he slams you headfirst into the wood with the same detachment as a carpenter that is hammering in a nail.  
  
   
  
+  
  
   
  
There’s something red lying in front of your face when you come to. Blood. But also a book. A beaten up old paperback from the looks of it, taped together far too many times by a loving hand. One of the corners is tacky with blood. A thumb comes into view, and then a forefinger; carefully picking up the battered book. You follow the movements with glazed eyes to see it wiped gently down, then tucked into a flak jacket wrapped around Sharingan no Kakashi. He lies propped up against the wood not far from you, face turned away. His fingers have been carefully splinted and bound with clean, white bandages.  
  
Ah, so that’s how it is.  
  
You lie perfectly still as the big man moves about, watching through slitted eyes as he puts out the flames. You see now what you hadn’t seen in your haste earlier. A Konoha hitai-ate dangling - no, burned - into his side, bits of the metal sticking to the skin. The leaf glints red in the dying firelight.

Somewhere in the distance a dog barks.  
  
The hand slides into view again. You hold your breath as you're turned over onto your back and your pockets are rifled through. After all, better to escape with your life than die over a bounty. You watch his face through the curtain of your eyelashes. His gaze is impassive as he finds the bottle of sedative and the warrant for the bounty. Then he calmly reaches over and breaks all ten of your fingers.  
  
You struggle under his bulk, all pretense forgotten, gasping like a landed fish. Your mouth forms the question, but there is too much pain to speak it out loud.  
  
_why_  
  
He ignores you, reaching forward to cup the back of your neck gently, lifting before plunging the entirety of the bottle down your throat. You fight to keep your eyes open as you see him turn toward Sharingan no Kakashi. You watch those massive hands brush the copy ninja’s bare cheek for the briefest of seconds, before covering that face from your gaze forever.  
  
A last thought meanders into your head as you watch the man leap away with his precious burden.  
  
_What an unlucky man._  
  
But perhaps this time you were thinking about yourself.

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> I headcanon that Gai is very protective of Kakashi's face (both for personal and security reasons). I also headcanon that a pissed Gai is dangerous beyond all imagining. Thank you for reading!


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